


The First & Second Sons

by seri-kun (vanijane)



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - Philippines 20th-21st c.
Genre: #BaSandro2016, #RP69fanfic, M/M, Oh God I Have Sinned, This is purely finely written crack lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 14:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6809308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanijane/pseuds/seri-kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baste, in all his physical glory, was larger than life. He carried such an aura that made heads turn and people stop. Not even Sandro, who had seen more than any other 22-year-old has, was an exception to the charm of Baste Duterte.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely a work of fiction, stemming from the crazed, hormone-addled mind of mine. The characters in this story are based on real people yet their actions and thoughts are purely imagined and constructed by me, this work is not a factual representation of these people. This work of fiction is not intended to disrespect or discredit any of the people who were used in the story. This work of fiction is not a representation of my political biases, but merely my fantastical biases.  
>   
>  If you find any discomfort in reading real person fiction based on these political figures, then please stop and turn back. Comments discussing political biases and related topics will be deleted. Only comments discussing this work of fiction will be responded to and kept.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baste, in all his physical glory, was larger than life. He carried such an aura that made heads turn and people stop. Not even Sandro, who had seen more than any other 22-year-old has, was an exception to the charm of Baste Duterte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of writing this piece of fiction, there has yet to be any official declaration of the new vice president, thus for now, this shall be considered an alternate universe of sorts where BongBong Marcos has won the vice presidential seat.  
>    
>  I am shit at Tagalog/Filipino (no we will not have a debate over this please). So this story will most likely have next to zero Tagalog/Filipino words. While I do understand the language if it is spoken to me, it an entirely different matter if you ask me to read, write or speak it.  
>    
>  _**Part of this piece was shared in a private chat between some of my friends. @teeoxley took a screenshot and posted it on twitter.**_

When Sandro met Baste, he stopped in his tracks. He wasn't ignorant, despite the busy schedule the campaign brought. He'd seen the posts, the memes and all the praises and prose the Filipino people had for Sebastian "Baste" Zimmerman Duterte but he never paid them any mind. Perhaps a laugh or two at how ridiculous the posts had gotten but aside from that, he didn't have any room for further scrutiny.

Though with what little he had read of the ballads for Baste, he could say with much certainty that neither the netizens nor the paparazzi gave the youngest Duterte son any justice. Baste, in all his physical glory, was larger than life. He carried such an aura that made heads turn and people stop. Not even Sandro, who had seen more than any other 22-year-old has, was an exception to the charm of Baste Duterte.

He felt a hand land on his shoulder and looking up, he saw his mother smiling gently at him and he returned the smile, with a bit of awkwardness as he resumed following his father into the large room. And as he stood with his mother and siblings to watch his father and the newly proclaimed president of the nation, Sandro couldn't help but avert his gaze back to Baste.

He certainly wasn't what one would expect to be the son of a politician but Sandro realized that the first family didn't present themselves like the typical political family. Baste was an enigma to the populace until recently and he still remains a mystery with how secretive he was. He was pure masculinity, not even the finely cut suit did anything to hinder the rawness he exuded. And Sandro thought a little bitterly that someone who rarely ever wore suits shouldn't look so perfect and comfortable in it.

When their eyes met, Sandro immediately felt embarrassed for being caught staring and he hoped he wasn't glaring (and then further hoped that none of the dozens of cameras caught it) at the older man. He offered what he hoped wasn't an awkward smile and suddenly felt flustered when Baste grinned crookedly at him and briefly tilted his head to the side. Sandro didn't know how to respond and smiled wider, teeth showing before he was grateful for the elbow shove by his younger brother.

"Stop trying to pull at the First Son," his brother teased him and Sandro immediately shoved back at him, though he tried to be discreet because they were in public. His brothers snickered and Sandro shook his head with a sigh as he hissed to them his denial.

"Yeah, you're mental to do it in front of all these cameras."

"I was not," Sandro insisted as he looked to the front where the nation's leaders were, though he felt slightly guilty-- had it really seemed that way? He tried not to let his eyes wander but he ultimately fails minutes later, when he tried to discreetly look at Baste once more--

Their eyes met once again and this time, Sandro had no excuse and was caught off-guard. When Baste suddenly laughed and it was low, masculine and raw, Sandro felt himself heat up in embarrassment that he looked away, flustered. He was about to snap at his brothers when he heard them snickering and it was only as he settled with giving each of them a glare that he realized he'd been holding his breath. He breathed deeply, confused and troubled by how much the First Son's presence was bothering him.

At that moment, he just wanted the day to end so that they could move on to their separate ways. He wasn't ever this flustered or nervous around Brian or Jake (he never was) but, his mind cruelly whispered to him, they didn't have Baste Duterte's uncanny charm. Despite the excellent cooling system, Sandro felt hot in his attire and while he wanted to blame anyone and anything else but Baste, he wasn't one to lie to himself: Baste Duterte, damn him, was starting to get under his skin and Sandro wasn't quite sure if that was a bad thing or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: After proofreading the first chapter, I decided to change the tenses from present to past. The tenses were all over the place and I originally wanted to do this in present tense as a challenge for me (I suck at present tense) but as I was writing the next chapter, I got confused along the way and decided to just fuck it and go with past-tense. So please don't mind that chapter one has been overhauled.


	2. Speeches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baste frowned and scratched the back of his head, "that's okay for you 'cause you're pretty. Eh, I'm not pretty."  
>    
>  Sandro inhaled sharply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to @iamadeadpoet (2016, via twitter), "this #RP69fanfic is getting really, really out of hand". As I wholeheartedly agree with him, one part of me fears continuing this story despite the rather surprising demand for it. There is also another part of me that just wants to release the repressed feelings I have for this ship. The latter part of me won this round.  
>    
>  This second chapter is set in the same alternate universe/setting as the previous chapter, now entitled, "First Meeting".

As Sandro went over his speech once again (because he really didn't want the media to do another cover over how he stumbled over his Tagalog), he was interrupted by the sound of someone approaching and cursing. He didn't need to look to know that it was Baste Duterte. They were both holding a speech today, with Sandro going first and introducing Baste once he was finished.

After the...unnecessary display days earlier at the Malacanang Palace, Sandro made a conscious effort to refrain from googling Baste Duterte. The teasing he received from his brothers were certainly helpful in fueling him to stay away from the First Son as far as possible. It wasn't until last night, as he was preparing for his speech, that he realized his life and Baste's were now tied together. As sons of the highest order of national leaders, they would be working closely together for the next six years. The thought of it was enough to fluster him but Sandro knew he couldn't make up an excuse to fly to London every time he felt strange around Baste.

As he turned to look over at the First Son and greet him with a small smile, Sandro reasoned to himself that it was an act of politeness. He couldn't just ignore the President's son and he was fully capable of keeping the future relationship he would have with Baste strictly professional.

"Good morning, Mr. Duterte."

Baste immediately stopped with a grunt and turned to look at Sandro with a crooked grin, "the hell, just call me Baste."

"Ah, s-sorry, I didn't--"

"S'okay," Baste interrupted him as he shook his head and extended an open hand, "we weren't formally introduced. Baste."

It took Sandro a second to compose himself and reach out to take the older man's offered hand for a shake. As their hands clasped, he noticed how Baste's hand was larger than his, it was rougher and warmer and for some reason, that made Sandro really flustered.

"You can just call me Sandro, too," he said with a smile as he attributed this nervousness to the speech he has to recite in front of a large audience.

"Are you ready for the speech?" Basted asked with a lazy gesture towards the paper Sandro held. The younger of the two nodded and was about to speak when Baste groaned loudly and cursed. Sandro tried not to flinch back at the sudden outburst-- he would be lying if he ever said Baste didn't intimidate him even though it was only for a little bit, but he had to wonder if he'd said anything wrong-- was it pretentious of him to have said he was ready for the speech?

"You have to help me-- will you help me?" To Sandro, it sounded more like a threat he couldn't possibly say no to especially when Baste looked like he could easily snap Sandro into two. Not that he actually thought Baste would do it, but it was a scary thought nonetheless.

"O-okay. Um...what can I do?"

"I don't know," Sandro inhaled deeply at the response. He hoped Baste wouldn't ask him to formulate a speech five minutes before they're supposed to do it. "I have a speech but...urgh, my sister said I had to do it properly."

Sandro didn't understand what Baste was trying to convey. Unlike himself, the older man didn't have any of his speeches circulating on television or the internet. Online videos of Baste were mostly short clips with screaming fangirls and the only one that Sandro properly watched was the one interview Baste had the day after the elections, when he'd told the interviewers that he had no idea about anything because he'd just woken up. Though Sandro knew he wasn't a novice to public speaking as it was a well-known fact that Baste had actively campaigned for his father in the past few months.

"She said she'd punch me if I fucked it up and that I should follow you."

As far as the rumors went, Sara Duterte was well known for her punches and Sandro tried not to cringe at the image of Sara Duterte punching her own brother. He believed Baste wouldn't do anything to his sister, but he couldn't help but imagine how a fight between both siblings would turn out. Baste certainly looked like he had the upper hand with all his height and muscles--

"Me?"

"Yeah, 'cause you do a lot speeches and you're good."

"Really?"

"Obviously or else I wouldn't be asking you," Baste laughed and Sandro held back a groan. He couldn't quite understand it but recently, the whole nation found him amusing and it seemed that Baste wasn't an exception. "C'mon, help me, please? How do I do it? Wait, fuck no. How do you do it?"

"Uh..." Sandro frowned. He didn't have an answer for Baste, he didn't know how he was able to perform speech after speech but he had to find an answer for the First Son. As the Second Son, he had to assist the First Family in whatever way he was able to. He crossed his arms, wracking his brain for anything that sounded like good advice until, "don't think about it."

"What?" Baste snapped and it took a lot of effort for Sandro not to flinch (he had to get used to how Baste Duterte spoke or else the media might think he had a flinching problem).

"Whatever scares you or makes you nervous, don't think about it," Sandro shrugged though he was still frowning, it still didn't sound like the kind of proper advice that would help anyone. "I have a hard time speaking in Tagalog, I can't say the words properly but when I get out there and make a mistake, I just...don't think about it and go on."

Baste frowned and scratched the back of his head, "that's okay for you 'cause you're pretty. _Eh_ , I'm not pretty."

Sandro inhaled sharply and bit his inner cheek. He'd been called pretty numerous times before, sometimes it got annoying and he had to force himself not to mind but there were also times when he just couldn't bother to care. However this was the first time he'd been called pretty and all he wanted to do was run away, screaming. He felt goosebumps dancing down his back but he had a feeling it wasn't quite due to being horrified that Baste called him pretty.

"Well--" he began to say as he tried to quickly think up of an advice that would work for Baste, goosebumps aside but the host had called his name. "Wai-- _gah_!"

Sandro stumbled a couple steps forward from a particularly hard pat he wasn't ready for, but just as quickly and surprisingly, he was pulled back by Baste to help keep steady on his feet.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to!" The First Son apologized with a grin and laughed. He gave another pat and adds, "thanks for the help! Go, rock it out!"

Sandro smiled before he could stop himself, he felt it would be impossible to rock out a formal speech. Then he realized what he was doing and instantly felt horrified, he quickly made his way to the podium as the audience enthusiastically greeted him with applause and shouts. He placed the copy of his speech in front of him and when he looked down to read, he mentally cursed himself-- why did words seem small and foreign all of a sudden?! This couldn't be happening him, not right now during his first important speech as the Second Son, representing the Seat of the Vice President and by extension, the nation.

"G-good morning to ev-everyone--" he began in Tagalog, stumbling over his words which the audience found amusing. Immediately, he remembered Baste's earlier comment and Sandro flushed. The intense lights directed at him only made the warmth he felt worse. He shouldn't be thinking of Baste Duterte, First Son of the Philippines, at a time like this when there were several cameras recording his every little action and reaction.

He cleared his throat and smiled nervously, hoping his charm would be enough to win an excuse from the audience. He quickly apologized and was satisfied how he didn't stutter, hopefully he could maintain this standard until the end of his speech.

* * *

Sandro finished his speech with an introduction for Baste. As he waits for the First Son to step up to the podium so that he can also make his quick exit, Sandro was doing all that he could not to melt. During his speech, he stuttered badly over his Tagalog and managed to stutter over his English, he even lost control of his accent. He felt like crying or screaming and slapping himself as soon he returned backstage, away from the cameras. He truly didn't understand what was wrong with him, why on earth was Baste affecting him so much that it even managed to interfere with his speech?!

Suddenly, Sandro is pulled against Baste. As he felt a muscled arm draped over his shoulders and a firm grip that held him in place, Sandro began to panic. He would be unable to escape whatever Baste had planned to do to him and the audience, who seemed to be quite receptive and even enthusiastic about this bold move, wasn't of any help.

"He's really cute, _no_?" Baste laughed over the microphone he'd pulled off the podium and the audience responded with a heated agreement. Sandro choked on air, he would rather be anywhere than in Baste's arms, feeling him laugh rather than just hearing it.

"I asked Sandro for advice 'cause I'm _sh-_ not good with speeches. _Ah_ , he wasn't done giving me advice when he got called-- he was probably worried for me while doing his speech that he couldn't do his properly. So, I'm really sorry, Sands. Don't hold a grudge against me. We're friends, right?"

Sandro was speechless ( _did he just call me 'Sands'?_ ) as he watched Baste grin at him. Nevertheless, he nods because he couldn't hold a grudge against the First Son at least, not on national television.

His nod seemed enough encouragement for Baste as released Sandro a second later. He received another hard pat on the back as Baste laughed, "cool! Don't go home yet, I'll get you a treat after this! I owe you a debt!"

Sandro laughed quietly, resisting the urge to run away as he gave the older man a thumbs up. He hoped his faked enthusiasm was enough to fool that cameras that he wasn't a bag full of mixed emotions at that moment. Baste gave him a wink just as he turned to head towards the backstage and it had taken what willpower and restraint he had left to not make a hasty exit.

As soon as he was covered in the dark privacy of the backstage curtains, Sandro dropped to his knees and inhaled deeply while quickly undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Never had delivering a speech taken out so much of his energy, he would have thought it unreal had he not just lived through it mere seconds ago.

"Bloody hell, Sandro, you're so stupid!" He hissed to himself, shaking his head. He needed a cold drink or a cold shower. He needed a damn fan, it was too warm and it was starting to suffocate him--it suddenly felt like the whole nation was onto him, as if they knew a secret that centered around him but he didn't know what.

He couldn't stomach to even think that the next six years would be a repeat of this disaster.

**Author's Note:**

> To the readers: thank you very much for your support and enthusiasm for this ship! I posted the first chapter last night, thinking that no one was as weird as I was. I woke up with a pleasant gift from @iamadeadpoet in the form of a tweet that told me to read #RP16fanfic.  
>   
>  For those of you who came here to read the crack and humour, I also thank you. :) I'll try to deliver as much humor as I can. Do note that I am not as witty as the users in twitter. :)  
>   
>  Lastly, please excuse me for my horrid habit of late responses and future late updates.


End file.
